


A Slow Encore

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: A BAD END IN A BAD END, Character Study, Dark Form Of "[insert badass character] can beat me up and i would say thank you", Do Lovelace Dislike Selberg more?, Gen, Lovelace hates being misunderstood, Not Beta Read, Slightly Out Of Character but it's justified, Suicidal Thoughts, i am so sorry lol, i just wanted some Angst, i yolo'ed this godforsaken fanfic, i'm having fun with putting irrelevant tags, lovelace is my wife, no hurt/comfort in this lonely and angsty corner of the universe, the title will not make sense at all, this is the kind of shit that i would post impulsively, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "The concept of throwing it all away, 'justified' with reasons associated with thinking that you aren't capable of continuing what you do. It seemed unlike him. It seemed wrong."





	1. a confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> hey this muse song reminds me a lot of the mindset i had to have in making this fanfic 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgQY_5YsVxA  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7W80LIPTl-0  
> (either version would be fine)
> 
> also it's your choice to take this as shippy content. i just wanted some angst  
> anyway idk hwo to continue this rn maybe when i get an idea

"That does not matter anymore."

Hilbert stared blankly into Lovelace's eyes, which appeared to be similar to a black hole. His eyes barely reflected anything from that angle; his iris was as dark as the void. His hands trembled as slightly as they can, being forced to appear still and stiff. The doctor's posture seemed to have been strained and exhausted, and his body looked very, very tired of its existence; it has been worn out for so much work. Unsure how to feel about his current state, the captain subconsciously, yet only slightly, hinted a feeling of distress by what he expressed. _Such a person like him would never end up hopeless,_ she thought, _so why now?_

"Why are you confused, Captain?" He eyed Lovelace in some melancholic way, and his eyelids were slowly giving up on him. "Thought that this course of action would make you feel very satisfied."

Lovelace narrowed her eyes at the man, feeling a sense of contempt yet also the annoying feeling of sympathy. "I know, Hilbert. But why? I didn't expect you to just throw it away." There was a tone of distaste in her voice, and she still felt angry; not towards Hilbert, but the thought. The concept of throwing it all away, 'justified' with reasons associated with thinking that you aren't capable of continuing what you do. It seemed unlike him. It seemed _wrong._

The man sighed. "People change, Lovelace. People change." Hilbert's voice gradually turned into a very exhausted whisper, which made him seem like a weak, dying flower. "Plus, this seems to benefit you all. Seemed like my research was going nowhere, right?" He sighed again, but with evident trembling. _Too much irreparable damage. Too less possibilities. No one wanted me to do this anymore._

"I honestly don't think I will understand any goddamn thing you think is fair anytime soon."

"That's fair."

As Hilbert approached the high-tech chair, Lovelace couldn't help but grip tightly on one of the man's wrists. Stupid sympathy. He forcefully shook off the captain's grip, but the captain's desperation for aiding this vaguely self-depreciating piece of work really doesn't want her to make him some sort of recently rendered useless pawn. The tired doctor doesn't like that bit at all, sadly. He tried to quickly and efficiently sit on the neuroscanner, strapping himself in with some sort of Velcro-like straps. Squirming slightly and settling comfortably, Hilbert stared at her, again, with the same horrifyingly empty eyes.

"Aren't you going to do what you planned now?" Hilbert croaked, tone flat and as dead as ever. His clenched fist shook, trying to numb the incessant pain flowing through his body. "My work has no use to continue here anymore. I am done."

Lovelace was stumped whether to help or not to help Doctor Hilbert. Nothing at this current moment would probably convince the poor captain how to react, not unless -- 

"Don't you want to stop innocent lives to end up in danger?"

Not unless Hilbert says something like that.

Lovelace winced at his question, feeling a burst of disgust and anger from the deepest chasms of her mind. Why would he say something like that? What does he really mean by this trick question? She thought to herself, _I think there are two ways to interpret this;_

_1) Hilbert wants to be helped, since no one else seems like they can or even want to. He himself knows that he needs others for this, and has to handle responsibilities. His work, he says, would save countless lives._

_2) He doesn't want help. At all. Ooh, finally, Hilbert saw that he is the one at fault, and is terribly sorry, but cannot admit. He would prefer paying back silently in order to justify the people that had to die for his work._

Trick questions like those made Captain Lovelace very, very uncomfortable. The former mostly couldn't work since his thoughts were all hopeless and devoid of light. Nothing would work for him, he probably thought to himself, and believes that he has gone too far. However, Lovelace was still in high denial with believing the latter was what he really meant. A man with his determination would never end up in his place without dedicating all positive feelings towards his goal.

Unless he refuses to feel anything deeply. Or anything at all. Which is something he almost always does, most probably.

"What are you standing there for, Captain? Do you still want to think about it? Alright then. I have killed all of your crew. Except Fisher, sure. But still. They were your friends. You were quite personal and close with all of them, is that correct? Think about this very deeply. Think on how you want to avenge them."

_This man has a death wish._

"Why are you doing this, S- I mean, Hilbert. I'm serious. If you don't stop right now, I will do something."

"I'd rather if you put this head cap on me, thank you."

A moment of dreadful silence filled the large, mysterious room. As the 5 semi-worn out overhead lights flickered into and out of existence, Lovelace stared at Hilbert angrily, as if she was ready to pounce and attack him. The thoughts in her mind struggled to express the thing she thinks she must do, because expressing sympathy for someone who betrayed you was not something to be able to process properly. Isabel Lovelace was, surprisingly, held back by fear, anger, and sympathetic thinking. Meanwhile, Hilbert stared back, longing for a sense of release, ready to let go. His stare was similar to someone who was finally able to finish things, maybe even once and for all. He was a man that was ready to see things through the end.

He sighed, and put his head in the cap. Two beeps followed after, as lightning-like strands of energy immediately shot from the metal cap, and struck through his skull, and ran through his brain, neuron by neuron. Such a process would have been quite painful, yet Lovelace heard no scream or any expression of pain. The two beeps chimed in again, and the energy head cap stopped functioning.

The weight of everything, every single thought or memory buried in his old mind. It felt like going through his own life, which was something he really didn't want at the moment. Piece by piece, memory by memory. Each memory, tied in with highly repressed feelings towards sensory input, with the unusually stereotypical sepia filtering, was his infamous format for visual memories. By each memory that was scanned, Hilbert saw a vague, hazy glimpse of his past; it felt like the sensation of reliving a life before dying, which made him feel unsettled. He didn't want to move anymore. Hilbert took a deep breath and sighed, "That was very tiring."

Trying to unhook the Velcro straps, Hilbert unexpectedly got a painful uppercut, making him groan in pain. "Agh! I..."

"You shouldn't have done that! You had as much of a chance as we all did; to prove them that we had the skills to do things like, I don't know, revolt!"

Hilbert sighed and shook, trying not to look tense. "You think that you had a chance," he breathed in deeply and sharply, "That is what you think. Never did. My work ended up as a failure." He pushed himself off the chair, and faced the captain. "But I have not much of a choice now." The distressed whispers were enough for Lovelace to somehow lose her cool. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she can even say a word on how to feel about a situation like this, he calmly yet weakly puts a hand on her shoulder.

"I have made your life a living hell; yet here you are, teaching me how to feeling things and react humanely. But there is really nothing that can help."

He stared at Lovelace with a known hopelessness on his face.

Lovelace scoffed at him, "I literally just punched you."

"Feel free to continue."

"You know damn we- Wait, excuse me, what?"

"You have the freedom to inflict your revenge on me, Isabel."

Astonished, Lovelace bore a confused look on her face, trying to process why someone would do this. No, why he would do this. She looked at him with high amounts of disbelief. "Still confused? I thought Command and I have done enough for you to actually commit to your vow of vengeance." Hilbert narrowed his eyes, putting a bit of an aggressive hiss in his tone. It's the kind of aggression that takes over his feelings and inflicts a lot of damage to himself and others. The irrational amount of anger filled his whole being, in which he would repress at times by screaming into a pillow or something similar, hoping that no one would ever hear.

The overwhelming aggression slowly yet surely took over the room, starting with a loud yell.

"Why are you still standing there, Captain Lovelace? _Go ahead and kill me!_ " He wailed, and swiftly grabbed her hand by the wrist. He then forcefully punched himself with Lovelace's hand, groaning loudly as the sheer force of such a move still hurt, yet he thought it was not enough. Panting desperately, he continued his attempt to make Lovelace to have her revenge fulfilled. "I killed all of them, I tricked all of you. How are you still having that small amount of persistent sympathy?"

The memories then flooded her mind. Her crew members' deaths and her last encounter with Selberg; they were the thoughts that haunted her more often than a human eye can blink in a minute. Blood was splattered all over those old, tragic memories. The crew's dying forms were etched deeply in her mind, begging for her to avenge their deaths. At times, she even had dreams of them calling out to her. Melting forms of her friends were one of the prominent dreams that reoccurred in her tired, paranoid mind. They were all gone. Because of him.

Anger took over the captain and started lunging towards Hilbert, ready to give him a piece of her pain.

Lovelace grabbed him by the collar and gave him a angry jab near Hilbert's left cheekbone, causing him to tilt backwards, with the furious captain tugging along with his body's movement. He had flinched, yes, but he never attempted to resist or fight back. As the bruised doctor hit the platform near the neuroscanner, Lovelace had attempted to hold him there and punch the living hell out of him.

"This is for lying!" A hook to the face. Hilbert had groaned lowly, but remained calm and intact. He braced himself for more, breathing as calm as a small breeze seemed to waft through a smooth sea. "And this," Lovelace wheezed, "is for Hui!" 

She had punched him in the stomach, causing him to whine loudly, clutching his abdomen. "O-ow, I --"

"This is for Sam," she hissed, and punched him with more force than she usually had. This time, her fist was aimed at Hilbert's nose, in which he flinched again, trying not to lose grip on the platform. The man suddenly felt hands squeeze his pale neck, with also two thumbs forcibly pressing on his trachea. "This," Lovelace gritted her teeth, "is for Dr. Fourier."

Gasping for air, Hilbert choked and shifted his body madly. The stiff feeling of restricted breathing spread from his neck to his head and his chest, rapidly losing air for each second that passed. Fidgeting uncomfortably on the platform, Hilbert stared at Lovelace's eyes, with eyes filled with the void; the dysfunctional lights of the mysterious room only very slightly made his eyes twinkle, as if the light of this universe just got sucked into the event horizon of a dark black hole. His iris started to darken, and Hilbert's eyes started to tip over into dying as he gradually lost more oxygen. He was still able to see that Lovelace continued talking as she tightened her grip around his weak neck, but he couldn't hear nor properly process anymore. All he was able to register was a mention of Rhea, and after that, his vision and other senses started to blur. Miraculously, the captain let go of his neck right near that tipping point of life or death, and Hilbert took a huge, deep breath as he was resuscitated.

The beaten scientist took in deep breaths as he stumbled towards the chair to tilt himself into a standing position. Still woozy from the inherent lack of oxygen, Hilbert dragged his sluggish frame back to the captain. This time, she had the horrifyingly empty stare. Lovelace stood in front of the man as if she was going to say one last thing before this whole situation has been resolved. Her arm pulled a gun from her tool belt, pointing it at Hilbert with a desire to kill. Her breath became shallow.

"This is for all the people you've hurt."

Mumbling weakly, Hilbert managed to reply, yet in a way that can barely be heard. "That... is when... you should get up,"

 _What is he even saying,_ Lovelace thought to herself, disabling the safety lock and ready to pull the trigger.

"W-wake up..."

With a large yet short boom, he was immediately shot through the head, blood flowing out of the bullet hole as if the blood was attracted to the ceiling because of gravity. It seemed very peculiar for liquid to behave like that in space. Lovelace thought to herself, something is not right. She observed the scene even more. Hilbert seemed to flinch and recoil way slower than normal. Not only that, but a pistol's bullet managed to maintain constant speed towards -- the room's walls. If it was directly on the external wall structure, the room would depressurize.

And so it did. As the bullet pierced through the wall and managed to make a hole through it, everything started to go haywire. But instead of depressurization, the bullet has somehow generated a black hole to emerge into existence, and the room's interior, including Hilbert's dead body and the severely confused Captain Lovelace. They plummeted into the face of a black hole as it immediately evaporated and exploded due to Hawking radiation. As for Lovelace, the last thing she saw was light.

"Ahh!"

Lovelace suddenly opened her eyes and fidgeted in her sleeping bag. _Goddamn it,_ she muttered to herself, _another weird-ass dream._


	2. a consultation

“05:36. Sweet Jesus, I barely had any sleep. Hera? Do you have my schedule for today’s shifts? My mind is kind of woozy at the moment.”

“Of course, Captain. Hold on, I’ll packet them to your room’s server.”

Lovelace yawned loudly and glanced disappointingly at her computer screen displaying a loading bar. _Who still uses loading bars, anyway? It’s 2016 already, for God’s sake._

For the past two weeks, Lovelace could barely even cope with the recurring dream. She kept having the same dream every night, with ideally the same outcome, but applied variously in her dreams. Hilbert loses hope; she ends up trying to help him due to popping up coincidentally. Always fails. Lovelace always ended up killing him in the most vengeful ways possible. The most recent one had a black hole as some sort of theme for it, for some reason. The key elements were always there, but how the dream occurs varied widely.

Thinking about how interesting yet terrifying they got always made Lovelace very unnerved. She would want it to stop, to forget it happened, yet she also wants to know why and how these dreams keep happening. _No,_ she sighed, _I should just stop thinking about it; it’ll probably go away in a month or even two._

It was impossible for Lovelace to just stop thinking about the recurring dream. At first, she was okay with the dreams, but repeating it over and over made her think it through. _Why do I keep beating up Hilbert? For revenge, sure. But it’s getting unnerving now. Why does he not have hope anymore? Why does he keep asking me to kill him? Why am I - -_

“Captain Lovelace?” Hera broke Lovelace’s scary and speculative train of thought.

“Hmm?” Lovelace absentmindedly hummed, trying to focus on Hera and the schedule, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how much these recurring dreams are weighing on her conscience and subconscious. “I, uh, got distracted.”

“I’ve loaded the schedules for you. I’ll announce any changes in schedule, so no worries.”

“Thanks, Hera.”

 _”Go ahead and kill me!”_ The thoughts wouldn’t really go away.

Lovelace loudly groans and bumps her head on her laptop keyboard. “Urgh, get out of my damn head already. I have work to do! Augh…” _That’s it, that’s the last straw. I’m going to get help for this;_ Lovelace aggressively shoved this thought in her brain, hoping it would stop thinking about the dream. She sighed and got out of her quarters, drifting and pulling herself across the hall. She took a deep breath, put herself up and headed for the door.

The door to the research laboratory in the upper decks creaked annoyingly as Lovelace slowly opened it with caution. She looked around from the door if there was anyone in the room, only to find an angry looking Hilbert beside one of the counters; his arms were on his sides, ready to judge every inch of Lovelace.

“Sel – Hilbert. I need help,” Lovelace calmly pleaded, attempting the closest pose to a kneeling position. Her mind ran faster, each thought thinking deeply about her recurring dream at 30 details per second. Her heartbeat increased its pace against her chest.

“Why are _you_ here? Is there something going wrong with the plan?” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. It looked like he didn’t want to be distracted at all, just being very busy tinkering with his lab equipment. _What does he even do nowadays,_ Lovelace thought, _I thought I heard from Eiffel that he was stopped from that Decima trials or something._ She raised an eyebrow, and casually retorted, “Take a chill pill for once, Doctor. I just need some insight on, uh, something.”

Hilbert rolled his eyes and narrowed them with even more disinterest, picking up some flask and focused solely on it. “To be very honest, that sounds quite irrelevant. Go work on your shift already, stop wasting time, I –“

Lovelace sighed deeply and started to get irritated.

“Look, I just need help for something. I think you’ll just consider it as elementary math anyways.” She couldn’t help but have that steel gaze, ready to snap and go back to bed afterwards. Hilbert scoffed at her, and seemed to be preparing to kick her out so he can work. In the end, he groaned. “Grr, fine. What do you want?”

The captain hesitated. _Do I tell him? God, why did I even go here in the first place? Telling someone that I’ve been having dreams of murdering them sounds very creepy in my opinion. Even if it was Hilbert._ She knew she had to act immediately, since each second that passes lessens the low amount of patience the scientist ever had in his entire, miserable lifetime. Lovelace took a deep breath, and tried to relax herself.

“Okay. So, I’ve been having this dream.”

“Get out. I am not a psychoanalyst.”

“I thought you wanted to help.” Lovelace gritted her teeth. “It’s kinda unfair, you know. You did disturb me at 2 am that other night.”

“That was necessary.”

“Whatever. The point is,” She suddenly stuttered, not knowing how not to get kicked out by Hilbert. _I can’t just do that by saying, Oh hell, Doctor! You were in my dream, being all suicidal! What in the world do I do now?_ The man’s facial expression suddenly changed, from irritation to confusion.

_Wait, was I thinking aloud? Fuck._

She sighed, tired and ready to bury her face in her pillow for that failed interaction. “Look, Hilbert, can I just say what happened? As much as I don’t like talking to you about things like this, I think you’d want to hear it, anyway.” Lovelace awkwardly shrugged, hoping he would say yes. This was going to be a long, eternal night.

After a severely detailed explanation of the recurring dream and the variations in what happened in them, the two lounged lazily in the laboratory, along with listless cups of synthesized seaweed coffee floating around them. As Lovelace finished the whole explanation, Hilbert laughed heartily, but it sounded quite fake to the captain’s ears.

“Very nice story you have there, Lovelace,” He panted due to laughing too much, but his expression suddenly turned grim. “However, you may have wasted your time thinking about such thoughts. You might want to forget it even happened.” Hilbert suddenly had that void-like stare in his eyes, like the one he had in the dreams. He stared at one of the flasks hovering on top on the counter, trying not to make any eye contact with Lovelace.

Lovelace’s eyebrows stiffened, and sighed deeply, again. “That’s why I came here. Why the _hell_ do I keep having those dreams? Are they _even_ dreams, Hilbert?” She groaned, grabbed the coffee cup near her and sipped loudly on the gooey, dark green liquid. She kept looking at Hilbert, somehow worried, and annoyed by the fact that she was a bit worried about him.

“I can confirm that they are dreams. I am very much alive, yes.”

“So… Are you actually losing hope?”

Hilbert raised his eyebrow at her, and to Lovelace, he seemed like he was trying to hide something. “What are you talking about?” The man folded his arms and stared at her questioningly.

Lovelace stopped and thought on what to say for a few seconds, and then shifting her composure, making her look relaxed. Narrowing her eyes at him, she inquired.

“Do you want to die?”

Hilbert stayed silent for a moment, and then asked, “What made you even think I would be suicidal?” He sighed, and shrugged. It seemed like he didn’t want to answer, for some ungodly reason. He shifted uncomfortably in his place, and turned away from Lovelace, focusing on the windows that overlooked the unforgiving star they orbited around. He mumbled to himself, and the only words Lovelace can make out of it were probably referring to Lovelace having a weird imagination.

“I don’t know. That dream, maybe?”

He sighed, not knowing what to do. “Whatever my answer would be, it wouldn’t really matter, would it?” Hilbert stared at her with the stare of the void, threatening to suck any visible light in the event horizon of his eyes. “Sounded like you wanted me to die a horrible death, anyway.”

Lovelace froze, trying to avoid feeling guilty. _He’s just…uh, manipulating you! Something like that!_

Hilbert flinched at a thought himself, but shrugged it off. He swiveled around and narrowed his eyes at Lovelace. “Unless you have something – like a plan – in mind.” To Lovelace’s shock, he stared at her with distrust, but he doesn’t seem like he would do anything about it.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe that dream wasn’t what you said to me. Maybe it was something else. Maybe in the dreams, you actually made me feel guilty. Forced me on the chair, even.”

Lovelace winced, her face curling into a vindicated frown.

“You think _I’m_ lying, Hilbert?”

“Maybe.”

Lovelace was now filled with the same rage she had in the dreams. “So, you think that I lied? That I’m _manipulating you_ to lose hope?”

“It is possible; I’m just considering the possibility.” Hilbert stood, poised with his arms to his sides.

Overflowing with anger, Lovelace glared at him with an enraged expression, as if she was ready to burst. "Listen, Doctor. I came here for help, not some sort of mind game! I know you know that I would _never lie about these things._ " Clenching her fist, she tried to calm down, but to no avail. It somehow became worse. The tension between them had increased. "Says the person who threatened our safety with a bomb," Hilbert hissed back, almost ready to throw her out of the room. Lovelace narrowed her eyes. "Fine. If you don't believe me, then I guess there's no point in trying to get help from _you._ "

With her patience gone from good enough to practically nonexistent, Lovelace stormed out of the laboratory, slamming the door behind her with intense frustration. It seemed like Lovelace's dream problem was going to end in shambles.

**Author's Note:**

> this was so tricky to write my dudes i had to get my head around these character's sad minds and it was Not Easy
> 
> also that was some Angst. the star gives people angst, anxiety, and angst-iety
> 
>  
> 
> also! why "a slow encore" is the title, various reasons:  
> 1\. it was 2 am me. never trust 2 am me  
> 2\. nevermind actually tried connecting the nonsensical title.
> 
> encore : a demand for repetition of a performance  
> *jazz hands* wow i made a metaphor
> 
> the slow is like lovelace being all "ah shit do i help him but Also"


End file.
